50 shades of crimson
by xTheNamelessx
Summary: "Let's put a smile on that face!"\ JeromeXOC Rated M for themes like stalking, graphic depictions of violence, gore, sexual abuse/harassment, generally 50 shades of fucked up.
1. Wake up

**"Wake up!"**

Sore eyes snapped open with a loud thud. Weak palms pushed against the cold, plastic floor as she tried to get up. The sun was reluctantly peaking over the great bridge. She looked out the van's window, soft rays highlighting the bruises on her cheek. The messy mattress behind her hosted another two girls, both of which were fast asleep. She turned to them for a mere second, made sure she had not been seen and slipped outside.

The soil was wet, humid from last night's rain. She made her way to the river. The camp was silent, nobody had emerged yet. When she was close to the bank she crouched among tall grass, slipped a hand in her shorts' pocket and pulled some smoke out. She rolled a cigar, dug inside her pockets for a lighter and sat there, smoking by the bank.

Soon the rest awoke and ruined her beautiful moment. It's alright, she's used to it by now. She got up and gathered her belongings, heading back to the camp.

Most mornings were pretty quiet and went by without much fuss. They gathered for breakfast, nibbled on something then set out for practice, or preparing the stage. When that was done, you might as well wander around until your time comes. Which was exactly what she did. But not tonight. Tonight was a premiere show, the tickets had already been sold out and there was no way anyone was leaving before the stage was empty.

The circus had its way. It belonged to the performers and the income was used to buy supplies and food and not for anyone's personal gain. It was as if working to support an asylum. For some of the performers, this circus had been their home for ages, whole generations had been raised and died during its many travels. For others, such as herself, it had been a sanctuary.

Outside the Dagger-Master's trailer a small crowd had gathered. She pushed her way through the dancers and stood on the very tip of her toes just in case she could make out anything from inside. But being tiny and weak compared to the dancers –these dudes had been working their asses off their whole lives to own these bodies- she was soon pushed aside and had to wait. Will Grayson neared her after a while. The middle-aged acrobat looked down on the girl and faked a deep sigh.

"It is quite a shame, she was still a young girl. Just like you." He commented. The girl snapped out of her thoughts and turned to face him.

"Huh?"

"You know, Samantha. Dave's sidekick." He smirked. The girl pursed her thin lips.

"Is she gone?"

"Found dead this morning." He continued in a morbid voice. "I wonder who would take her place. Certainly none of my comrades." He chuckled.

Simon the weeping clown sneaked up behind them. "You bet your bottom dollar." He growled towards the Grayson. The girl swallowed hard and stepped back.

"You guys take it easy, it's not like it matters anyway." She said but it was merely a whisper.

"You think some random creep would come to the camp and randomly kill someone? Sounds quite unlikely to me." Simon said. Grayson's eyes narrowed.

"Well whatever it's quite a joke that she had to die like this after all this time she spent having daggers thrown at her by a blind man, don't you think?" The girl interfered, trying to lighten up the mood. Grayson rolled his eyes at her morbid humor and walked away.

"Nah, don't mind him he's old and his humor's all rusty." The clown added. She turned around to find his eyes fixated on her. She stepped back. Simon was rather intimidating and she had heard an awful lot of bad rumors about him. Better keep her distance.

Samantha's death had an impractical side to it as well. No one would offer to take her place in tonight's show. So the Ring Master, a brown man named Daniel, walked up to the female dancers trailer and knocked on the door thrice.

When you're working for the circus being talented at what you do has some pros and cons. On the bad side, you get to do all the hard work and experience the most pressure as the show relies on you. Everyone resents you for your talent and you'll rarely ever make friends –but you're guaranteed to make a lot of enemies. No one will leave you alone as long as you stand out, because the circus is more than a show. You live with those people. And you want to keep good relations with them for your own sake. At the same time when you're not as talented, you'll most likely be picked to fill in Samantha's spot and get daggers thrown at your face.

Today was one of the few days Jinx wished she had been on the 'rather-talented' side. When Daniel stepped up to her she knew what was coming and that there was no way she could avoid it.

"Are you or are you not part of this circus?" he said before even greeting the girl. She nodded silently. "Go to Dave and ask him what you must do to prepare. You'd better do your best, girl." He threatened.

A couple of minutes later, there she was before the blind man. He was not the first blind human she'd witnessed –the fortune teller that she'd visited once was lacking his vision as well. But he was harmless compared to someone with a full set of kitchen knives strapped around his waist.

"Joe will help you up the board. There is a slit for ankles and wrists. The board can rotate, as you probably know. And as it rotates I will throw. Now the trick, if you'd like to know…"

"No that's ok, I like a little mystery in my life. So long as I don't get stabbed, that is." She chuckled. Dave didn't. He rarely had any other expression than his neutral one. Actually he didn't seem to be listening to her at all.

"Well, when you hear Joe's whistle you must go to him and he'll help you on the board. There is a slit for ankles and wrists…"

'Shit, he's totally wack…' she thought. Jinx nodded and was preparing to say that he'd already told her but instead she stepped backwards and out of his trailer. For one thing, she could at least take a walk by the bank without having to worry about the preparations. While the others set up their stages, all she had to do was wait.

'Look, Samantha was working for like what ten years, with this guy and she never got a scratch. It's not like that will change tonight. It's all going to be alright. Yes, quite alright.'

There was noise behind her. She snapped out of her thoughts and accidentally dropped the cigar from her fingers. She looked over her shoulder to find a figure creeping towards the bank. 'Better keep damn quiet…' she thought then started to drag herself backwards up until something stiff and cold collided with her backbones. She turned around, momentarily taken aback by the gray mass. It was just a rock. The camp wasn't far. Someone would hear her screaming anyway. She swallowed hard and slowly got on her feet.

"Sorry if I scared you."

She jumped back with a sharp shriek. He started to laugh, Jerome. His skin looked even paler in the dim sunlight and his eyes were fixed on her frown as his smile slowly faded to an apologetic look.

"No sorry, I really didn't mean to-"

"Yeah, whatever Jerome just...You know I'm probably worked up with the whole Samantha story…" she muttered. "What are you doing out here anyway?" she huffed, shifting a bit, obviously trying to change the subject.

Jerome glanced at the cigarette that was still smoking on the ground and the package of smoke that peeked over her pocket and frowned a bit.

"Just..looking for mice." He breathed, his eyes going from the cigarette to her, then back to the cigarette.

She shifted uncomfortably. They were about the same age, perhaps she was a bit older. Jerome looked many times more morbid than she did. They were both kind of weird but this is the circus, who isn't!

She nodded, dragging one foot behind the other and crossing her hands behind her back.

"Right…for Sheeba right? I mean…" she chuckled, "you know, it's not like you'd eat it or something…"

Jerome smiled, a bit softer than before. He then dug both hands in his pockets and looked away, stating his departure. "So…I'd better get going." He said with a side-smirk. She nodded and he begun to walk away only to come to a halt a few steps away from her. He turned around, as if he'd forgotten something very important and looked her in the eye, dead serious. "You really shouldn't smoke, you know. Bad for the voice and all." He added. Jinx's mouth hung open at his comment. He waited for a second but she wasn't going to respond so he just walked away.

It wasn't the comment as much as his way. It was as if he was really pissed about it, when it was none of his business. Anyway Jerome was weird, people here were weird, that was a matter of fact. She refrained from rolling another cigarette and went to join the rest for tonight's preparations.

 **Author's Note: This is set before the events of 'The Blind Fortune-Teller'. I hope you like the story, more will come soon and please leave a review on your way out, I'd love to hear your thoughts.  
**


	2. Grab your brush and put a little make-up

**"Grab your brush and put a little makeup!"**

 **** _Showtime's around the corner, it's almost dark. There's people running around everywhere, and a few just staying still, doing their make-up, rehearsing their act. Jinx has had her makeup done by Lila, the snake-dancer. She likes to help all the teen girls such as herself. Likes to 'pretty-them-up', as she says. Everyone makes fun of her because she's a whore. And what's worse they make fun of poor Jerome too. Nobody pays much attention to Jinx, on the other hand. She's just an orphan that joined the stage to escape the streets. So she has them thinking._

 _Lila gave her cheeks a flustered pink hue, her lips a cherry red touch and she covered the dark circles around her hazel eyes. Her long blue hair got caught up in a bun, dark roots showing through –the circus life schedule does not actually allow root touch-ups, and her small thighs wrapped around distressed fishnet tights. Her only job now is to stay still, smile and look pretty. Not exactly her best card. But she's going to try._

 _Joe, the technician, makes her slip into a tight leather corset and ties her ankles and wrists to the suicide board. When the board is straightened, she can feel the unstable wheels rattle against the hard soil and she can smell the stench of Samantha's sweat that has infiltrated the wood. There are various slits from where the daggers had cut. She glances at Joe. She knows the trick to the act has something to do with the rotation and all. He will be rotating the board. Her life is pretty much in his hands right now. She gulps audibly as the grumpy man drags the board to the backstage. Their number is early on the show, luckily. She just wants to get this thing over with and go smoke by the bank._

 _I've been watching her all this time, but she would never know. It's a little game for me, but she'd take it too seriously. I know. We don't talk much, never paid much attention. Didn't notice her until today, she's strapped on that thing squirming like a fish from the lake and I wonder…I just wonder what would it be like if she was squirming beneath me…just looking up with those big watery eyes, and smiling; for me._

"Jerome."

His dilated pupils narrowed suddenly, the astonishment on his face replaced by an awful expression. What did she want now again?

"Jerome, where's my dress?"

Oh fuck. The dress.

"Be right there, mom." He growls. The fucking dress. He forgot about it. It's all because of that stupid girl, he's suddenly so forgetful. He should be done with it by now, but it's almost show-time and the dress is still buried deep somewhere in the laundry mountains. He swallowed hard and turned around on heel, knowing what was about to come.

Back on stage had gotten a bit rough. Once the Lloyds were off-stage (Graysons and Lloyds were always the first to make an appearance and 'greet' the crowd) Joe pushed the board on-stage and everyone started to cheer as Dave made his appearance. He was wearing a long black cape that he let slip off of his shoulders as Joe started to hand him daggers that were placed on a small portable table next to him. Then Joe took his place by the board.

As if anxiety and the stress of having that many eyes stuck on you weren't enough, there came the rotating. Jinx felt as if the hard-boiled spaghetti she'd had for lunch were slowly making their way back to her mouth. At some point her hair brushed against the floor as she was hanging upside down. She lost the smile she'd been threatened into for a moment, but regained her posture as the wheel kept going. There was a long moment of silence, then drum-roll and then the crowd shrieked as the first dagger was thrown.

She heard the thud a million times louder. It landed right next to her face. If for a mere second it wound have penetrated her cheek. She felt her abdomen burn and cheeks fluster even more, but she kept the fake smile on –it was the only task she had been given. Then another drum roll, and another one, and again and again… After the tenth or perhaps eleventh knife she had relaxed. It wasn't going to happen, Dave and Joe knew what they were doing. Right then the last knife landed; right above her head and through the bun, pinned right between her hair. The crowd cheered. Everyone bowed. Joe let her off the wheel and Dave grabbed her hand. She bowed on the spot, small hairs falling around all over the place as she did. The lights went out momentarily as they abandoned the stage. When they were finally backstage again, Joe started to pull the knives out and only then did Jinx realize what had just happened.

As he pulled the top knife out, a nice bun of blue hair fell of the board. She cupped her mouth and ran t the nearest mirror. Indeed, all of her hair was chopped into a short asymmetrical bob.

"Well, at least you've still got your head!" Joe chuckled. She frowned and shook her head to get all the extra little hairs out.

"Screw this, I'm sure Lila will fix this for me."

"It's no big thing, darling, you're still a beautiful girl."

She smiled and turned around to meet the man who complimented her. It was Dave, the blind Dagger-Master.

It wasn't hard to put on an angelic expression and he had mastered the art of lying to her over the years. However when she was drunk things usually got ugly. How do you go around telling the world that your forty-year old mom is abusing you? He's a grown man now, he can handle her. Sometimes he _thinks_ about it.

As she raises her hand he thinks what would it be like if he grabbed it and twisted her wrist until it broke? What would it be like if he grabbed a knife and scarred her face? Those clowns would never bang you again then, mom! He chuckles.

"You think it's funny!?" she yells. Oops, he was a little loud. "What's so funny, Jerome, what am I GOING TO WEAR TONIGHT?" Another slap. It doesn't even hurt anymore. His cheeks are red and hot. That last one kind of brought a tear to his eye. She grabs the kettle pot. Oh, shit, not the kettle.

 **Author's Note: There goes the second chapter...I promise things will get more 'interesting' soon, those chapters were more of a 'prologue' if you will. Anyhow, I'd really like to know what you think, so please R &R :)**


	3. Hide the scars to fade away the shakeup

**"Hide the scars to fade away the shakeup"**

Jinx's POV:

I made my way to the snake-dancer's, trying to stay positive. Ok, it's just hair, I mean it's not even important. I could have lost an eye. But I liked my hair. It was my signature, you know, blue hair and all…it's ok I can dye it again. The world's still there. I'm still free, still healthy, you know, things are looking up. Nothing to worry about.

As I approach her trailer I see Sheeba's cage right outside. The snake is shifting impatiently, as if sensing the air. Better walk in a big circle to avoid the cage. There's sudden noise from inside. Before I have the time to react a small black object flies through the open window. I barely manage to dodge and something hard brushes against my cheek. Next thing I'm on the ground staring blankly at Sheeba. I could swear for a moment there the snake smiled, as if making fun of me. I slowly got up, rubbing my sore cheek and looked around for the culprit. A frying pan. More yelling is heard from inside and I decide I'd better come back at another time.

The premiere went well but the same could not be said for the following two shows. On one of them Owen Lloyd run Simon the weeping clown over with his clown car and then blamed Alfonso Grayson for loosening the brakes. On that same night though, Grayson slipped and fell off the jumping platform and claimed that Lloyd had sabotaged him to avenge for his deranged fantasies. The Ring Master had them settle their disagreements outside he show and even though the brawl was avoided –at least on stage, the atmosphere was very tense.

The third night only a quarter of the theatre was booked. The money would be used to fuel the trucks and therefore we were stuck in Gotham until we gathered enough. It was decided that an extra week of performances would be scheduled.

Much to my disappointment, the Ring Master made no intuition as to whether I'd go back to dancing soon. It had become apparent to everyone but me that from now on I'd be the dagger-girl because no one else was willing to apply for the position and new blood rarely joined the circus –especially while we were on tour.

And so days would go by in peace, except for the ordinary arguments between acrobats and clowns –thankfully they rarely burst into something bigger than insults. Until one day Dave the blind dagger master developed a really bad cough. We had to cancel his performance until he got better which allowed me a night off –nobody bothered to alter the show's schedule just so I could take part in it.

I was very excited about that particular night because it would be one of the few where I would get a chance to wander around the camp during the night. Even when the show was on, the camp was well-lit and full of people as specific numbers (the fortune-teller, the petting zoo and the Elephant Man's bones) were only displayed backstage.

Anyhow, I was so excited for my big night that I forgot half of the tasks I was given (I'm supposed to be taking care of Dave while he's sick, for some reason) and got a few slaps for it. Nothing I couldn't handle, this was everyday stuff in the circus. Finally when Dave was asleep the sun had already set so I stormed to my trailer (my roomates should be on stage by now) and grabbed my heaviest coat, boots and the Golden Virginia Classic I had stolen from the stall boy quite some time ago.

The air outside was…liberating. Cold, yet not penetrating, full of smells and smoke. The crowd was buzzing. I could hear the heart of our circus beating. Everybody was making money and that meant everyone was happy and polite to you and it gave the whole place a different hue that I'd never realized before. Until then the circus had been a hiding place, a sanctuary. You had to be careful there but at least you could touch freedom. Back home there was no hope for that.

I walked around and bumped on several people as I was trying to take in as much of my surroundings as humanly possible. It was clear that this was no ordinary night and I wanted to feel everything to the fullest.

In the backstage I could hear the neighing of several horses from the dancing horses show along with their riders. In the distance you could hear the shrieks of many more animals, combined with the consistent yelling of the man behind the hot-dog and corn stand. I passed by the cotton candy machine and Jenny –she was good friends with all the kids in the circus, gave me a small stick for free.

Was it dangerous back there? Of course it was. It's the circus and I was a homeless kid –well, a kid very far from home to be precise. But the thing was if someone from the circus hurt you, they'd always find out. And that someone would pay quite a heavy toll. It was the outsiders I should be afraid of and I was, just not enough to keep me inside my trailer.

On my way to the petting zoo I bumped on 's boy.

"Hey Gillian. Running errands?"

"Y-y-yess.." the boy muttered. He was trembling from the cold.

"You should really get to buy you a new coat…" I whispered but he had already ran off.

Poor thing. Not that any of us were in better spots. I had to save up for my coat for a whole year (and it'd barely been three years since I joined this place). I have a rule and it is to never make other people's problems your own. So, I walked away. Gillian's health is none of my business either way.

To this day I had never really understood just how big our circus is. It's easy to get lost in here. I asked around a bit for trailer 1981, the closest one to the petting zoo. I made my way to it, blinded by the blinkering lamp strings that connected the trailers and soon snapped out of my thoughts due to a familiar voice.

"Jewel, honey, enjoying your new haircut?"

Long stiletto nails scratched my chin. I turned my head up to meet Lila's heavy makeup and smirked.

"Yes, thank you …." I breathed out. 'And it's Jinx, who the fuck is Jewel' I wanted to add but didn't. Behind her I could clearly make out the open snake tank; Sheeba was missing.

"It's nothing dear, I'm always glad to help." She smiled, whimsically. Her heavy perfume was starting to make me sick. "Jerome! Bring Sheeba."

Jerome's ginger hair peeked over her shoulders as he clumsily carried the snake to his mom and helped her wrap it around her shoulders.

"Good luck, Ms Lila." I muttered, staring at the snake with what I assume was a pretty horrified expression.

"Luck is for those who need it, dear." She smirked cheekily and walked by me, her aura alone almost pushing me aside. I had mixed feelings for this woman. Both admiration and disgust.

I turned around to see Jerome was still standing there, staring at her with a weird expression. I could swear his pupils took up most of his eye socket for a second as he watched his mother make distance. His arms were loosely hanging on his sides but his fists slowly clenched.

"Um…Jerome?" It was almost as if I brought him back from the dead. All of a sudden the spark returned in his eyes and he turned to face me.

"Yeah? I mean, sorry I was kind of…somewhere else." He giggled awkwardly. I smiled. He was a cute boy but rumor had it all this drama with his mom had loosened some screws in his head. Nobody thought him dangerous at the time, of course, and I was no exception.

"No it's ok." We awkwardly stood there staring at each other for a second. "So…you're going to hang out with John and the others until they're up or something?"

John Grayson was the most popular among our age group. His secret affair with Mary Lloyd was the number one gossip around the circus and everyone wanted to hang out with him and his gang which consisted of probably all the boys of our age that worked in the circus.

"No I don't…well…I don't know, I'll probably stay in." Jerome muttered. He was pretty lonely. I had heard that he didn't hang out with pretty much anybody because they didn't like the rumors about him. I was usually pretty cautious but the look on his face when he admitted to his loneliness before me…it really hurt. I didn't have that many friends either –although I made sure to get along with everybody. I wondered if…no…but…well just a little walk wouldn't hurt right?

So I broke my rule to never burden myself with other people's issues.

"Well if you feel like it we could hang out. I'm having the night off anyway."

 **Author's Note: I should have been studying but whatever, I'm too excited! xD As you can probably tell I'm still experimenting with styles and I'd really appreciate your opinion on the matter. I hope you like the story.**


	4. Here you go create another fable!

**"Here you go create another fable!"**

(Song: Carnival of Souls-Verne Lagdon)

Jerome's POV:

There was faint music in the background. We walked side by side, occasionally brushing our hands against each other's…oh well, I touched hers anyway. It was exceptionally bright that evening, they'd put up extra lamps and all because the Mayor would supposedly attend. You know aristocrats; they never show up as promised. It's not as if he'd care for our little show anyway…so little…we are little….

 _Wake up!_

She's walking by my side and I wonder why do my insides burn like that. Sure, I'd like the girl to be my friend. I know there's something more to her than those big eyes. I know she's hiding something. Why is that so intriguing?

 _Or is it? Not?_ Huh?

 _Wait wait, let me get back on my 'train of thought', woo woo! He he hehe!_

"What's so funny?"

 _…Shit, I should keep it down._

"Uhm…nothing just you know…it's nice here, right?"

 _Put on a nice smile, Jerome. We don't want her running away screaming…yet. He he he!_

She smiles back. No teeth. _Oh come on woman show me your teeth!_

 _When did teeth become such fetish for you, huh?_

 _You, shut up! We're playing 'nice Jerome' here, you're not welcome!_

 _How am I supposed to focus with all you guys making a mess in here!_

 _Sorry, "mom" I'll clean it up I promise! He he he he!_

"Yeah, you know it's a bit chilly an all…"

 _Think chivalry._

"We can go warm up by a can, if you'd like."

She turns around, gives me another toothless smile.

"Yeah sure."

Jinx's POV:

Jerome was quiet company, not as intriguing as I'd hoped but at least he was quiet. We weren't given a chance to do much –there were big lines in front of most attractions and Jenny wouldn't hand out free cotton candy anymore. He frowned slightly when I mentioned the petting zoo but agreed to follow, as long as I promised to let him try a cigarette by the bank later. Oh well, a cigarette less won't hurt anyone. It's surprising how he changed his mind on the subject though.

We walked all the way back, our silence interrupted only by giggles casually escaping his lips. The thing is, when I asked him why the laughs he always responded something legit ("That monkey just threw shit at the donkey's face!", "Look at those pants on Lloyd!", "Ducks! Need I say more?") but it occurred to me that he might as well have been laughing to himself the whole time. He was weird…but sort of funny at the same time. It certainly felt much safer wandering around the circus with an eighteen year old boy that by myself. Which is probably why I enjoyed such poor company in the first place.

Finally we went and sat down side by side near the bank. You could clearly see Gotham's skyline from here. A million- billion of small blinkering lights from the tall buildings. It was magnificent. I could tell he was enjoying it too. The small lights reflected in his eyes and for a moment there I let myself believe he was charming.

"So." All of a sudden the silence between us was broken as he jumped around, facing me. "I think we made a little deal back there." He smirked. I glared at him and huffed, sneaking the smoke out of my pocket.

"I assume you don't know how to roll."

"I'm a fast learner." He talked back. I chuckled.

"No thanks, I don't want to waste my smoke for nothing. It took some guts to acquire this object." I said, waving the package close to his face. He raised a brow at me.

"You stole it?"

I glanced at him cheekily and shrugged.

"Maybe."

"You're baaaad." He breathed, but the look on his face was the furthest thing from deterring. I glanced at him again, while drawing a pinch of smoke and chuckle. It was strange how the moment we distanced ourselves from the camp he'd lightened up. It was as if he'd left a burden behind. I could clearly tell he was breathing more easily here.

"Well," I said, licking the paper and rolling it, "you ain't seen nothing yet." I inspected my work and handed it to him. He took it from my fingers and examined it, then placed it on his lips the right way. "Have you done this before?" I asked, brows raised in concern. I certainly didn't want tonight to be the night he'd discover he has asthma or something.

"No, not really." He replied, with a befuddled look. I nodded silently and helped him light it up. "Ok now suck and breathe." I instructed. He did as he was told. It didn't go down the first time –probably reflex or something, but he managed to do it the second time. All of a sudden smoke was coming out of both his nostrils and mouth and he was coughing like crazy. I watched him and found myself breaking into a hysterical laughter. Jerome was choking on the smoke and for some reason I found it hilarious. He folded in two and I soon realized that he too had been choking laughs the whole time. After a while he settled down and I patted him on the back.

"You'll get used to it, the first time's always the worst."

"I don't intend to make it into a habit." He frowned. "I was just curious."

"Oh."

Had I been a more responsible, sensible person, I wouldn't have picked up the cigarette to finish it myself. His mom was a whore and who knows what she'd passed down onto him. But I was careless, always have been.

He watched me smoke the rest of the cigar. We talked about stuff. Surprisingly I found out that he loooved to talk. I mean, loved it. He could go on forever on almost any subject that came up. We started with simple subjects: the circus, the animals, the show and moved on to bigger ones: life, circumstances, our dreams, our reality. I told him things I probably should have kept to myself. I assumed he did so too.

 _"The world, it's a weird place, you know? Sometimes you are told that you should be happy, but you're not. You're told that you're lucky, that you're special…but what happens if you don't feel this way? If you feel…trapped?"_

 _"Parents?"_

 _"They pushed too hard, you know? I just…pff…why am I telling you all this you probably don't even care…"_

 _A warm hand on my shoulder._

 _"Well, listen to me, I know what pushing means."_

Before our little 'date' was over, I knew I should have been more careful. I could see it in the way he looked at me and I could feel it in the air that we had built something.

 **Author's Note: .Ideas. My head's going to explode….anyway, this concludes the 'introductory' chapters. Also, I think I'm going to make the 'Carnival of Souls' theme sort of the story's soundtrack, you know I think it fits really well.**

 **Hope you enjoy your reading. :)**

 **-Nameless**


	5. Dreaming of screaming

**_Dreaming of screaming_**

 ** _Someone kick me out of my mind_**

 ** _I hate these thoughts I can't deny_**

Jinx's POV:

Days went by. I was beginning to think this week would never end. Dave got better and back on stage, which put an end to my late night play-dates with Jerome, which was quite sad because the two of us got along nicely. In one of those particularly long late night talks I'd brought up the subject of freedom. Surprisingly, Jerome let me do most of the talking on this one.

 _"You know, back at my home we had this book, the House Rules. It was something like the Constitiution, you know, you just didn't want to break a rule. Trust me. So there was this one rule that said the kids- that'd be me, I don't have any siblings, aren't allowed to stay up after midnight. So this one night there was a big, GIANT, black cockroach in my bedroom –no idea how it had gotten there, don't ask, and it was literally facing my bed to a point where I could watch it climb the wall at all times. Now I don't have the best relationship with insects in general and I was sort of freaking out as you can probably imagine…so it was past midnight and that thing was still in the room with me, and of course I couldn't even blink, let alone go to sleep. What's more, I can't go tell my parents because it's past bedtime and I'm supposed to be in wonderland right then. So I was pretty screwed, you know?"_

 _"What did you do?"_

 _"I took the fucking House Rules and slammed it on that stupid roach so hard that they had to keep scrubbing the walls for like a week to get the stain out."_

 _He laughed, I could tell it was with his heart._

 _"Then my father came into the room and slapped me so hard that I couldn't sleep on that side, 'cause my cheek was bruised for a week."_

 _"What a retard." I wasn't sure if I heard some bitterness in his voice._

 _"It's kind of liberating right? To smash your fears, I mean. That cockroach, you know, it really meant something for me seeing it all mashed like that. I freed myself from it."_

To that he had responded with a silent nod and I couldn't distinguish if he was thoughtful or bored, or maybe if he'd seen through my lies. It felt good to be by his side that night because I could be someone else. I never killed that cockroach and I would never forget that sleepless night as I watched it creep around my room, unable to move or do anything about it.

Jerome's POV:

He's eighteen years old and he can't remember ever feeling so…alive. All those sleepless nights he'd had, dreaming of his freedom, questioning the rationality of his thoughts, plunging into insanity. All those impossibly cold nights when he'd been planning his escape…

But how would he escape? Where would he go? Perhaps it was too late for him. He was doomed to die here. It was not logical for one to hate their mother, they shared blood and a sacred promise to take care of each other. That's how families are. But she didn't take care of him. And did they really share blood? It was not logical for that to be his mother when she treated him so badly…or was it? What is sane, what is crazy? Who draws the line? What happens when you're told you should act one way when all instincts point to another?

It is simply not logical for him to let that kettle slam against his back, his hand wants to jerk out and grab it but doesn't move. Because you mustn't hit your mother. You could kill her and we don't want that, do we? Do we?

When she cornered him with something heavy in hand he would retreat into those dark shelters of his mind. Before there was just emptiness, despair, disdaining of all that was human and questioning of all that was reason. The door to this place was locked with a key which he had always been looking for but was never able to find. That night, that girl gave him the key. It was wrapped in black lace and it came with a note:

 _There is no God. There is no punishment. There is no justice. There is no logic._

Justice, mercy, duty, they are lies. They are fantasies humans make up to make life bearable…they need them to survive, to keep their heads in one place, them sleeping apes.

Narrator's POV:

The lights blinkered a bit as she finished adding glitters to her cheekbones. Short hair were caught up in a playful bunch of buns and Joe rolled the stage wheel towards her.

"He had this crazy idea last night," he muttered as he neared the girl, "said he wants to change the show to Russian Roulette. Can you believe the old man? I swear something's got into him lately…"

The girl chuckled. "I'm sure his fine…just a little…eccentric. You know he's old, like, 80 or what?"

"He's only fifty." Joe murmured as he started setting up the wheel. Jinx lowered the make-up brush from her face and turned around.

"You're kidding right?"

Joe chuckled at that and pulled the straps out. He'd memorized the size of her wrists and ankles aready. Soon she was getting up on the board, ready to go. But as Joe was strapping her left wrist a bunch of strawberry hairs popped behind the wheel. Joe jumped back and shook his head when he realized who it was.

"No need to scare me like that, boy. What you want?"

Jinx tried to look around but both her arms were strapped down and she couldn't.

"Well, actually I wanted to wish good luck to Jinx, is she here by the way?"

It wasn't hard to recognize Jerome's trembling murmur. Joe violently turned the wheel around so that the front side was uncovered. She had to drag her feet around to keep her arms in place.

"Watch it!" she grumbled, trying to find some balance in this awkward position. Jerome produced a sly smirk upon facing her. "Hey. Sorry for not turning up, I was kind of busy…" she eyeballed Joe who wouldn't leave. "Um…could you…give us a moment?"

"Yeap." The man begun to walk away.

"Uh…and undo those, please?" she said but he pretended to not have heard her.

"It's alright I'll help you out." Said Jerome and reached out to undo the right strap. She helped herself to the left one, noticing how he'd kept one hand behind his back the whole time.

"So, what…" she begun but was interrupted.

Jinx's POV:

"I…brought you a gift!" he said, joyfully, his padded shoulders shifting lightly. I couldn't help but pout at that. "You know, a good luck gift for the show and all."

"Thanks…you really shouldn't have bothered, it's not like I _do_ anything special up there anyway."

"Well don't say that. It takes quite some..courage."

"Courage?"

"Grace under pressure."

"Oh. Thanks."

He bows his head a bit and slowly reveals the hand he'd been keeping behind his back the whole time. It's a bouquet of wildflowers. It doesn't look like much but the gesture matters.

"Thank you, they're lovely…" I begin to say, slowly sliding them off his grasp but as I bring them close to my muzzle to smell…

Jerome's POV:

The expression on her face was priceless! Splendid, really magical I tell you! The high-pitched shriek she released so smooth and comforting to my ears…it was as if there was a complete lack of sound before and the air would never be the same after it. I inhaled the shock in her distinct aroma. She tossed the flowers and stepped on them multiple times until the roach went flat with a squishy sound and juices stained the mashed flowers.

I could hardly make out the face through tears of laughter.

She looked at me, such puzzlement in those big eyes.

Why such confusion in those eyes…such…a desperate plea for enlightenment…well, listen up, pretty little thing, I will show you the way…Hold on to your dear pal, Jerome! Let the show begin!

"What the hell is wrong with you!?"

She isn't laughing. I look at her, grab her face and squeeze it…come to think of it, is she even real?

"Jerome! Snap out of it!"

Small hands resist me. But I'm only trying to show you, dearie, that there's nothing to be afraid of…nothing worth fearing…when you kill your fear, you can be free!

A sharp pain on the back of both hands. I pull back with a low yelp. Fresh blood pops out of sore scratch marks. She shakes her head and turns around, running off.

People…they are blind. They have sunk in an eternal sleep, pills prescribed by their own minds. A big black dog barks at you every time you're about to do something that frees you from your self-imposed chains. Only you hold the key to those lockets. To bend the bars you have to bend the logic.

All this talk about freedom was shit. That lying, treacherous b*tch. She doesn't really want to be free. If she did, she would understand…

And she can't help you, Jerome. You're on your own.

Me against the world. Hm, I'll be damned.

No it's quite funny… Budum chsssss….

HehehehehHEhHEheHEheHEheHEheHEheHEhehEheHEHehEHeHEheHEehEHEh


	6. All we ever wanted

**All we ever wanted was everything**  
 **All we ever got was cold**  
 **Get up, eat jelly, sandwich bars and barbed wire**  
 **And squash every week into a day**

Jinx's POV:

Another loud thud as the blade lands right next to my cheek. I got used to the process after a while and was hardly ever upset about it. Tonight was different. My mind just would not move from that still of his forehead touching mine, both hands squeezing my face and that maniac cackle…What the hell had I gotten myself into?

It was pretty obvious that tonight was no 'incident' but a reality that I had for some reason let go by unnoticed. Realizing now that this psycho had been sitting next to me in a dark field by Gotham's river sent chills down my spine. I was lucky to be alive and I intended for it to stay so. I had to keep Jerome away from me, without directly going against him or his mother. I had to speak to someone trustworthy but no one in the circus was worthy of my trust.

And then it dawned on me. The only one who could help me was Lila. On one of our nights by the river he had told me that she was always ready to believe the worst about him. He hadn't been honest with me but I had noticed the peak of a bruise on the back of his neck. I didn't want her to abuse him, but still she could…'restrict' him until, I don't know perhaps he would forget about me or just things would settle down. I certainly couldn't risk being around him when he would randomly get violent. And apart from that, Jerome's mental health was never my problem and I shouldn't have made it so. I shouldn't have broken my rule.

Coincidentally I bumped on the snake-dancer just as she was getting off stage. She neared me, expecting congratulations but instead I bit my lower lip and faced her raised brow and said:

"Ms. Lila I think we need to talk. It's about Jerome."

Jerome's POV:

He had a 'personal space'. It was in the back of the trailer, hidden behind the main room, mom's lair. That room separated him from the kitchen and so on some nights when she was busy in that room he had to starve and go to sleep famished. Perhaps this had been the trigger for many of his illusions while he was sleeping. Sometimes he thought he could even see the future in these dreams that lasted a night long and never escaped his memory.

What is conscious, what is unconscious? Where does your control end and chaos begin? What lies beyond the average human mind?

What is the world? Why is the world? What's the point?

If that all seemed too deep for a boy his age with his little experience of life to grasp, let it be known that he had had countless sleepless nights to think about all these –randomly interrupted by his mother's moans in the next room.

" _People seem to believe that only rich men in black suits can wonder about the meaning of life, sitting cross-legged by the fire place drinking fresh brewed coffee._

 _Well, it's true. That's why they force you into their perspective. They have money, they bought spare time and they decided what's right for them and told you to do it. And guess what, you did! You did once and again every time you wake up and go to work for these mother-fuckers who wouldn't give a shit about your point of view! You're just an object! You trap yourself in this circumstance and you wish you could stop and catch your breath and think about the meaning of life, but you know, you have to go to work and get paid and buy stuff you don't need because the meaning of your life is to be a cog in a giant machine that's called Economical System. If you could just pull a cog the whole machine would fall apart but no you just do what you're told, you don't want any trouble! You're completely fine with belonging to them!"_

He rubbed his chin, crouched in his corner. Her voice echoed in his head. He recalled the beet red of her face as she shot both hands up in the air and choked on her own spit. She was wrong. People do search for the meaning of life every day and they all wonder and dream. They take life too…seriously. That's why they never live, they are afraid to live.

So, Jerome, WhAt Is ThE pOiNt

thE PoInT iS,

tHErE Is NO pOiNt

Narrator's POV:

After speaking to Lila she had thought her problem solved. Little did she know that Lila not only wasn't subtle, but she beat up her son and threatened that he should never near the girl again. He didn't make a single sound as the pan slammed on the back of his head and his pelvis and even his groin. His pale skin wore more bruises on top of his existent, but he preferred to view them as badges and he didn't make a sound. After a while, Lila pulled him up by the hair with such force that a fistful of ginger hairs was left on her hand and locked him in the trailer's storage where his 'room' was. She hid the key under her pillow and she lay on the bed with a deep sigh. Look at that, her own son terrorizing the circus girl. She should have seen it coming, he must have taken from his father's side of the family.

Later that night, however, the door to Jerome's room creaked open and a shadow passed by the sleeping Lila. She awakened for a mere second but never got a grasp of what had just happened and went back to sleep. A couple of minutes later shrieks were heard from the trailer where Angie, May and Jinx were sleeping peacefully as the window that sat above Jinx's mattress was broken with a rock. She was the first to jump up and the only one who saw the pale, bloody hand reaching out to turn the door handle from inside. Next moment her roommates were up and screaming and the hand had disappeared. If she hadn't heard the cackle that followed she'd have thought it was a ghost.

 **Author's Note:** **I apologize for this chapter being kind of short but I've been dealing with a short writer's block. I'm pretty sure the only way to get over it is to keep writing though. Anyhow, I wanted to post a little disclaimer for the songs that I use as chapter titles.**

 **The previous five chapters were named after SOAD tracks and this one is from Bahaus. I suggest that you listen to all of them they are great songs and have inspired me for writing this story.**

 **One last thing before I go: It is unclear whether Jerome is the actual Joker and the show's writers have implied that he may not be. It is also hinted that the Joker himself will appear much later on the series as the guy from the 'Red Hood' episode that has just been inspired by Jerome's act. Now personally I believe that Jerome as a character is really suitable for the part and I love the way Cameron has embraced his character and really breathes life into the 'Ledger Joker' -which is what I prefer in comparison to the animated or Nicholson's.**

 **I am still debating on whether I should play along with Gotham's timeline -and accept the fact that Jerome may not in fact be the Joker- or just turn it into an AU and have him be the Joker anyway.**

 **I'd really appreciate your opinion on it. A big thanks to whoever gave a favorite or an alert to this story and to the people who reviewed.**

 **See you soon**

 **-Name**


	7. Scene of the crime

**Scene of the crime, star of the show**

 **If you were mine, then we would know**

 **The peace of mind and seeds that we sow**

 **Are intertwined**

Jerome's POV:

He may have been whistling, but he was thoughtful on his way to Dave's.

Wait, who?

But Dave, of course, the Dagger-Master. His mommy had called him over once, they got high and threatened him with knives for the sake of a good laugh. Oh well, the one who laughs last laughs best.

You see, nothing in this life is a guarantee, which means everything you do is a gamble…and people put such…negative connotations on gamble. But, in the end of the day, you have to gamble. It's a necessity. I gamble with lots of things. Trying to break into that girl's trailer, trying to stab mom in the tits while she's snoring…

And you, Mr. Dave, you gambled with your life when you threw knives at me week after week. And how did you think that was going to turn out? That was a bad bet. It's a shame you won't live long enough to get a second chance, you know?

They say once you cross the line, there is no going back. But it's quite relevant. I go back and forth all the time. But then again my line is kind of…blurred….Ha, ha HahAhahHAHhahAHhahahAhaHAAaa

Jinx's POV:

That same night I was locked up in my trailer, crouched in a corner and enjoying the absence of my roommates. I still couldn't smoke inside though, they were as if allergic to it. I sighed, biting my lip as I glanced out of the broken window. A cold breeze passed through and wrapped around my shaking shoulders. I went to reach for my coat but never made it to the door. Three knocks had me frozen in my spot. He wasn't hard to make out through the slit of glass on the trailer's door.

Now I was faced with the dilemma: the last time I'd tried to ignore him he violently shoved his hand through the trailer's window. Back then Angie and May screamed and well…that kind of saved me. Now it was just me in the trailer and I doubted I would have the chance to scream. I slid my hand beneath the kitchen table searching for the jackknife we'd duck-taped under there. My nails desperately clawed the surface of tape to peel it off and I grabbed the knife, hiding it in my first. When I opened the door I made sure that hand was behind my back.

It was Joe. He watched me shrink as I breathed out all the air I'd been holding.

"Y' ok, gal?" I responded with a nod. "Look, I ain't 'ere t'a talk but 'chu know if there's somethin' going on…" No, there was no way I'd ever tell him. I wouldn't tell anyone. No one would believe me and even if they did I had no proof…I was new to the circus while Lila had been fucking the Graysons for a long time. I had no chance of standing against Jerome in the circus' court.

"Get it over with, Joe." I hissed, clenching the switchblade in my grasp.

"Okay okay, jee, are y'all worked up…." He murmured. "Word is Dave won't come out of his trailer. I mean like ever again."

I could feel my eyes ready to pop out of my sockets and a sharp noise as the knife dropped from my loose grip and trembled on the floor.

Narrator's POV:

The news traveled fast in the circus and soon almost everyone had gathered around Dave's trailer, some crying, others bewildered and most of them suspicious. The ongoing Grayson-Lloyd rivalry had reached a peak as each side blamed Dave's death on the other. But the old man's corpse showed no wounds or signs of violence and it was hard to tell if he'd been murdered or his time had just come.

Little did they all know that they were part of a scheme which they would never even find out about, cast by the least likely to cause such carnage.

Jerome's POV:

They had never believed in him. That was their fault. They were so arrogant, they would never predict a child like him could outsmart them. But he wasn't _that_ child anymore…nah. He was more than human now. More than what being a humble little human meant. He was free.

Well, not _entirely_ free yet.

There was still some… _unfinished business_. Some loosely woven bonds to cut. And what better way to chop off your chains that with an axe.

Yes, an axe it is.

 **Author's Note:**

 **Disclaimer**

 **Jerome's monologue at the start of this chapter is referenced from TheJokerBlogs, the song is Placebo-Scene of the Crime.**


End file.
